“Is the food not to your liking?” his mother asked. “I could have Adelina make something else.”
“I’m all right, Mother. I’m just not very hungry.”
He sliced into the fish and placed a morsel in his mouth but didn’t miss the look that passed between her and Trenton.
“I heard you’ve changed your schedule a bit.” His mother’s voice was cautious. It was unusual for her to be so careful. She usually spoke her mind and had the talent so many Southern women possessed—the ability to insult you while smiling, and it was only later you realized you should be offended by their deceptively innocent remark.
“Who told you I changed my schedule?”
“Ivy happened to mention it.”
He glanced at his sister. “And what did Ivy say?”
His mother dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the cloth napkin. “She mentioned you’ve been off your routine. Security said you’ve been showing up late for work.”
Cyrus sat back and looked at his sister. “So you have security keeping tabs on me?”
“No, I don’t,” Ivy said.
“I’m at work by seven-thirty.”
“You have to admit that’s later than normal for you. You usually get in earlier and work out.”
“What Mother is trying to say,” Trenton interrupted, “is that everyone’s worried about you because you’re not acting like yourself.”
They all had their eyes on him, and they were filled with worry. Even his niece, Katie. It was unnerving to see such concern, as if he’d somehow fallen short. The way they were behaving made him feel as if this was an intervention. He was the oldest and his father had charged him with the important task of being the head of the family and taking care of them—not the other way around.
“I’m fine,” he said shortly. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it…privately?” his mother asked quietly.
“No, I don’t. As a matter of fact, I should go into the office and get some work done.”
The concern in his mother’s eyes deepened. “It’s Sunday.”
Oh yeah, it was.
Since he and Daniella separated for the second time, he had been distracted and zoned out at the oddest times. One day he’d even driven to her gallery. He hadn’t realized he was on his way there until he pulled up outside. Since he was there, he thought he’d talk to her, maybe even apologize for his heinous behavior their last night together in Spain.
But he had been ill prepared for the sight of his wife, standing amidst a crowd of smiling faces wishing her well as they toasted the New York location. She’d looked so…happy. So content, he hadn’t wanted to spoil her special night with his presence. He’d slipped away unnoticed and sat in the car, finally accepting it was indeed over. Even in their happiest moments, he was convinced she’d never looked so radiant.
Love, a pure form of it reserved only for her—had been pushed back down where it belonged. No point in getting his hopes up. No point in thinking that maybe if he had been a different man from the beginning, she could love him.
In a moment of introspection, he knew without a doubt she could never love him. Why would she? He’d never given her a single reason to.
Cyrus scraped his chair back. Sunday dinners were important to his mother, but he couldn’t stay there any longer and face the pitying looks of his family members. Hell, maybe he would go to work.
“Mother, I’m sorry to disrupt dinner, but I can’t do this right now. No need to worry about Johnson Enterprises, though. The business won’t suffer.”
His mother frowned. “I’m not worried about the business, son. I’m worried about you.”
“We’ve never seen you like this,” Trenton added.
“Everything is fine. I’m fine. No need for anyone to worry.”
Cyrus kissed his mother on the cheek and saw her look desperately at his brother, Xavier. A message was conveyed, and Xavier rose immediately to his feet. Cyrus didn’t stick around. He left the dining room without any intention of talking to his brother.